I Care
by xCookie93
Summary: POST-MOVIE, HUMANIZED AU. GCBC is wounded during another attempt to saving the universe. Emmet is with him and has to deal with the things that follow. Mostly friendship but can be read as pre-slashy


After turning the key, Bad Cop slipped inside the apartment, and Emmet followed him immediately, closing the door behind them. The cop glared at him.

"What do you think _you_ 're doing?" he asked muffled. "We don't need you. Just get outta here, kid."

"Oh no," Emmet said, his voice clear and serious, "don't think I'll leave you like this. I understand you didn't want to go to the hospital – but at least let me help you."

Bad Cop kicked off his boots with a grunt while clutching his right shoulder. The pain was intense – but not the worst he had ever felt. He had dealt with worse.

As the cop stumbled into what seemed to be the bedroom, Emmet took a look around the apartment. It was small with slightly stained walls, not the sort of place Emmet had ever had in mind for the cop. It was a dark place even in the late daylight. Emmet pictured how dark it would be after hours. There were only two windows in the main area, and that was it. No sun reached the windows, as the view was close up to another building across the street. There was no balcony outside, and the floor was covered in worn-out carpets. Emmet realized that he had already seen pretty much the whole thing. There was no living room arrangement, and there were no paintings or other decorations on the walls, except from a long mirror near the front door. Only a small table with room for two people stood by the kitchen. There was only one chair by the table, and this caused Emmet to realize, how lonely the cop actually was. But apart from the unhappy atmosphere and the poorly furnished room, there was no mess. The kitchen didn't have a stack of dishes, and the top of the small table wasn't dirty – at least not by something one would be able to clean off. A little dust had settled on the windowsills, but else there was nothing to put a finger on.

Realizing he had been lost in thought for a moment, Emmet returned to the door to the cop's bedroom, when he heard a recognizable groan. He watched, as Bad Cop twisted his left arm out of his leather jacket then carefully removing it from his right arm. Emmet had thought of stepping in, but he had stopped himself from doing it. The cop didn't look like someone who would accept his help.

The bedroom was somehow identical to the room he had just been in, except of the windows. It was even darker in there. A neatly made double bed and a closet was the only main furniture in the room. On the one bedside stand there was an alarm clock with red digital numbers, and across the room there was a door to a bathroom.

When the leather jacket was off and thrown on the bed along with the helmet, the sight of a blood-soaked upper sleeve hit them both.

 _"_ _This is bad, buddy,"_ the cop's good half spoke to him.

 _ **"**_ _ **You think?"**_ he mocked back in his head and then eyed Emmet briefly. He turned his back to the younger man and started unbuttoning his white, though blood-stained shirt.

Emmet could hear him swearing under his labored breath, as the cop worked on the buttons. And when they were all undone, he worked the shirt off of his body, and the sight made Emmet's stomach curl and his heart sink. There were so many scars on the older man's torso – fewer on his arms, though. Emmet could tell that they were caused by everything from stab wounds to burns. And as if that was not bad enough, the cop's upper body showed sign of carelessness. He was muscular but also quite thin as well, causing his muscles to stand out sharply.

Sensing the set of eyes watching him, Bad Cop turned halfway, still wearing his aviator shades and speaking with a low, dark voice.

"Some privacy?"

"You got it." Emmet didn't hesitate and closed the door to the bedroom. Only seconds later, he heard the faint sound of a tap being turned and then the sound of running water.

Bad Cop hissed angrily, when the water hit his shoulders and poured down the bullet wound, rinsing off the blood from his arm and chest. Blood and water mixed at his feet, creating a painting of white and red. And when his shower was over, he studied the wound in the mirror by the sink. It kept bleeding, and the cop knew that something had to be done very soon. That bullet had to come out eventually.

 _"_ _Maybe Emmet can help."_

 _ **"**_ _ **No chance."**_

 _"_ _But –"_

 _ **"**_ _ **We've done this before. Just let me do the work."**_

But the light of the bathroom was poor and not meant for treating bullet wounds. He would be forced to take care of it in the kitchen, and Emmet was there. He had to get rid of him somehow.

Emmet was snapped out of his thoughts, when the bedroom door opened again. Out stepped Bad Cop now once again wearing his usual uniform pants. He was shirtless and still a little damp from the shower. And of course he wore his shades. He passed Emmet in the center of the room, went to the kitchen and opened the upper cupboard, when he suddenly spoke.

"Get out of here, Emmet."

Feeling the strange need to stay, Emmet opened his mouth but nothing came out instantly – not before Bad Cop took out a little package and a bottle of what looked like whisky from the cupboard and closed it again.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"But we're fine. Just go." The cop's voice grew a little stronger, as he turned to Emmet again and went to the table, placing down the package and the liquor. Emmet watched suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as the cop sat down and fiddled with the paper.

"What do you think?" the cop snarled. "I gotta remove the bullet. Now go, there's nothing you can do here."

 _Switch._

The cop took off his shades and put on the familiar pair of round glasses, and Emmet was met with a smile from Good Cop.

"I'm sorry," he said with his characteristically soft voice, still ruffling in the package. "I don't think this will be a pretty sight for you, Emmet."

"You don't need help?" Emmet asked, as he kept a certain distance to the cop.

"We better do this ourselves – or, _he_ will. My nerves are not strong enough." Good Cop pulled out a pair of pliers and tested them by moving his fingers. Emmet suddenly realized what was about to happen, and he winced.

"You sure you don't want a doctor to do that?"

 _Switch._

"Quit asking questions or leave us alone!" Bad Cop growled at him, making him jump.

Emmet found this as a perfect time to just shut up. There was not much he could do. And he didn't want to leave. He felt somehow responsible and wanted to at least mend the cop's loneliness. Slowly, he backed away and let Bad Cop do the work.

The cop studied the wound a little, before he undid the cap on the bottle and took a large sip. He adjusted his right arm on the table and grimaced, as the pliers dug into the hole. He hissed and groaned in pain, as the metal rummaged around inside the muscle. The bleeding sped up a little, and he felt drops of sweat running from his forehead, when he sent his right fist down onto the table with a crash. He could hear his good half whining in the back of his head.

Surprised, Emmet hadn't been able to focus on the wound in the cops shoulder. His stomach turned a little in the process, and he found himself trembling a little. He was basically just very uncomfortable, and looked away just in time to hear a last painful growl coming from the cop and then a sound of metal meeting wood. Emmet focused on Bad Cop once again. He was clutching the wound, this time with a clean cloth. Breathing heavily, he leaned back in the chair. On the table, Emmet saw the blood-smeared bullet that had caused all this trouble.

Bad Cop breathed through his nose, now feeling his last bit of energy wearing off. Burning pain shot down his arm, as he just sat there regaining his strength a little. Of course his good half started talking to him.

 _"_ _We're alright."_

 _ **"**_ _ **Yeah, because I fixed us."**_

 _"_ _You did, buddy."_

He adjusted his aviator shades a little before cleaning up the wound. In the process his eyes caught a glimpse of Emmet, who was resting his back against the wall, his arms around his torso.

"You still here?" he asked, wondering why the hell Emmet was still watching him.

"As I said, I'm not going anywhere," Emmet said simply, as if nothing had happened. Inside though, he was sort of disturbed by what he had just seen.

Bad Cop grunted lowly and reached for the bandage in the package. Holding it out, he realized something.

 _ **"**_ _ **I can't do this."**_

 _"_ _I know. Me neither. We gotta ask Emmet for help."_

 _ **"**_ _ **I'm not doing that."**_

 _"_ _Then let me."_

Bad Cop sighed deeply and removed his shades.

 _Switch._

"Emmet, would you mind giving us a hand?" Good Cop's voice made Emmet cheer up a little, and he was glad that he could finally make a difference.

"Of course not," he said and stepped closer just when...

 _Switch._

"Hey, what'cha think you're doing?" The shades were back on, and Emmet backed away again. "Don't you touch me. Leave me alone."

"Guys, come on," Emmet pleaded, his shoulders slumping down in frustration.

 _"_ _We need help."_

 _ **"**_ _ **I don't want help."**_

 _"_ _But we can't do this by ourselves. Can't you see Emmet cares for us?"_

 _ **"**_ _ **... Fine."**_

 _Switch._

"Please, do proceed, Emmet." Good Cop gestured towards the bandage with a weak smile.

"You sure?" Emmet asked. "Will Bad Cop stay away for just a little while?"

"Yeah, he will," the cop nodded.

Emmet came closer and accepted the bandage. He started working carefully.

"Don't take it personally, Emmet," Good Cop said. "He's just not comfortable with people touching him. I tell him to let it go, but I guess that all the hard work has taking its toll on him. You must not think he hates you. He doesn't."

 _ **"**_ _ **Don't be so sure."**_

Smiling a little, Emmet guided the cop's right arm a little to the side. Good Cop hissed at the painful movement.

"Sorry," Emmet said, feeling bad for the pain he had to cause to wrap up the wound properly. He changed to subject to ease the tension a little.

"It's a... nice place you guys have."

"Don't be silly, buddy," the cop shook his head. "I know it's a little... uninspiring, but we can never agree on anything. Let's just say we have different tastes."

 _Switch._

"I don't know what's wrong with it this way. It's just fine."

 _Switch._

"Now he's just being ridiculous. I'm sorry, Emmet, I wouldn't drag you into our trifles." Good Cop looked up with embarrassment in his eyes, but Emmet quickly reassured:

"Hey, it's alright. Lucy and I don't agree all the time, either."

 _Switch._

"Are you done yet?" Bad Cop seemed annoyed.

Emmet pursed his lips and then finished his work.

"Well, it's not like I do this often," Emmet then stated, "but I'll say you're done."

He had just let his last word slip, before Bad Cop got op from his seat and gathered his things on the table. The sudden movement of his body caused a new wave of pain to shoot down from his burning shoulder. He grimaced but didn't let Emmet know.

Emmet just watched, as the cop fought to clean everything up, replacing the tools back in its package and back inside the cupboard. The bullet ended up in a small metallic can, where Emmet heard it colliding with other pieces of metal.

"Are you saving those?" He was sure, he saw Bad Cop flinch at his words.

"Why – are you still – here?" The cop was practically panting at this point, making Emmet a bit concerned.

"Just... figured you might need some company." Emmet didn't even know why he said that. But after all, it was the truth. Though regretting saying this, he prepared for a whack with the cop's only chair.

With his back towards Emmet, Bad Cop balled his left hand into a fist on the kitchen counter. He felt lightheaded and exhausted, realizing it must be the loss of blood now hitting him like a hammer to the head. He had heard Emmet alright but didn't know what to say. Suddenly, his heart was aching, and he didn't understand why. Was it affection towards the younger man? Was it his loneliness speaking a little louder to him than usual? What was that feeling, really?

 _"_ _Talk to him."_

 _ **"**_ _ **I have nothing to say to him."**_

 _"_ _How about a thank you for a change?"_

 _ **"**_ _ **I didn't want his help. That was you."**_

 _"_ _I know it's hard, but you gotta try. Emmet did this for us, and it was a nice gesture."_

 _ **"**_ _ **Darn... You're a pain in the ass."**_

 _"_ _Say something."_

Bad Cop practically wrecked his mind. What was wrong with him? He had thanked Lord Business before, that hadn't been so bad. But mostly those thanks were the output from his success in capturing, torturing and even killing. This was different. He knew that his good side was right. Emmet had shown him sympathy – and that was a thing he was very unfamiliar with.

 _ **"**_ _ **I really hate you."**_

"Um," he mumbled. "Thanks."

That word almost made Emmet stumble back in disbelief. Partly from the long pause of nothing – but mostly from the fact that the cop was _thanking him_. This actually disturbed him more than anything.

"No problem," he answered, a small smile creeping upon his face. "No problem at all."

 _Switch._

His hand still on the counter, Good Cop turned around to face Emmet.

"We don't feel too good," he said, and Emmet immediately saw how pale the cop's face was. He rushed forward and positioned himself underneath Good Cop's left armpit to support his weight.

"I gotcha," he breathed out, as he felt the cop leaning just slightly against him. Emmet felt a little intimidated by being this close to the cop, fearing that Bad Cop would burst forward at any second to push him away or punch him in the face. "Let's get you two to bed."

"Sounds good," the cop nodded, as they started to move. "Thank you, Emmet, you're a good guy. My other side agrees."

 _ **"**_ _ **No, I don't!"**_

"Don't be ridiculous, G," Emmet chuckled, "I know he doesn't."

They reached the bedroom without an incident, and Good Cop sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling completely worn-out at this point. Slowly, he lay down on top of the covers and adjusted himself to lie comfortably, two pillows propped up under his head.

"You need a blanket or -?"

 _Switch._

"Don't get started, kid," Bad Cop muttered from the darkened room. And just seconds later, Emmet was sure he heard light snoring coming from the bed.

He couldn't resist, so in the dim light from the door, he searched for a blanket and found one folded up by the cop's feet. Quietly and carefully, he unfolded it and draped it over Bad Cop.

Emmet smiled to himself. His work here was done.

 _The End_


End file.
